Treated Like a Stranger in My Own Country 

Why did submitting a residency form feel like having my identity erased?

When I returned to Japan from overseas, I went to the local municipal office to file a simple residency registration. But it turned out to be far more than just an “address change.”
I was asked to present my Japanese passport and a printed copy of my airline e-ticket. However, Japanese nationals no longer receive entry stamps—automated face-recognition gates are now the norm.
In a world where e-tickets are digital and managed through apps or QR codes, being asked to bring a physical printout felt completely out of step.

Just a year earlier, I’d completed the same process in the same city with only my passport.
This time, however, I was made to feel like an outsider—like someone returning from abroad who didn’t quite belong.

“We’re just afraid of other departments”—a culture of fear unchanged since 9 years ago

I had already experienced distrust at this same office nearly a decade ago.
Back then, I was filing a marriage registration with my Colombian partner.
Even though we submitted all valid documents, we were told, “This format doesn’t match the one from 40 years ago,” and our paperwork was rejected.

When I asked why, the official said:

“If another department criticizes us, we’ll be blamed.”

We had to visit multiple times to finally receive an apology.
The experience shattered our trust, exposing how fear and avoidance shaped their actions.

And now, despite not being involved directly, I learned that the same staff member instructed new employees to request a ticket copy—repeating the cycle yet again.

Where is the human empathy? Even after surviving a health crisis abroad

I returned to Japan after facing a serious health crisis in the U.S.—an ambulance ride, hospitalization, and the emotional toll of recovery.
Coming home was meant to be a new beginning.
Instead, I was met with outdated procedures, bureaucratic rigidity, and an overwhelming sense of being judged—not for who I am, but for how I didn’t “fit the mold.”

But there was light—compassionate staff and a way forward

Not everyone was unkind.
The staff handling my MyNumber, health insurance, and pension applications were incredibly helpful.
One person in the pension department spoke openly about the challenges in the system, and that honesty brought me a sense of relief.

Later, I was told by another employee that the printed ticket copy had never been a formal requirement—just an individual decision.
That explanation alone lifted a weight I didn’t realize I was carrying.

If we speak of building a “diverse society,” then the system must be ready to receive people

My husband is a Colombian physicist, currently completing his PhD at an American university.
He’s a talented, promising researcher who’s seriously considering working in Japan.
But if I imagine him being treated this way, it breaks my heart.

Can Japan truly welcome international talent while upholding systems that quietly push people away because of their skin color, nationality, or culture?

As U.S. immigration rules grow stricter and work visas harder to obtain, Japan may become a natural choice for more researchers and professionals.
But if so, our readiness to welcome them—kindly, wisely—matters more than ever.

I want to be a translator—of language, yes, but also of feeling

At JapaNEO, I hope to serve as a bridge between cultures, systems, and people.
Not just translating words, but interpreting emotion and intent,
so that those navigating Japan’s structures can feel seen, heard, and supported.

This experience was exhausting and painful.
But that’s exactly why I know these voices are still needed in Japan today.

To everyone reading this

Let us move toward a society where people aren't forced to fit into outdated templates,
but where systems gently adapt to real human lives.

If you've faced similar struggles, or want to raise your voice together—
Please know: you’re not alone. Let's connect from here.